


Three People, Two Reunions, One Room In Medical

by FortySevens



Series: Sleepless 'verse [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Also for a tiny mention of unpleasant things that happened to Jyn in prison, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cuddling, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, History, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I told myself I wasn't going to go there, Introspection, Jyn and Cassian are still in Medical, Jyn still has a lot of PTSD and guilt to deal with, Rated for a couple tiny allusions to how wounded they were at the end of Rogue One, Reunions, Sharing a Bed, but I did, timelines? What timelines?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortySevens/pseuds/FortySevens
Summary: “I had heard Draven ranting about some lunatic Partisan who ran off on a suicide mission to Scarif with his best spy. Should have known it would be none other than Saw Gerrera’s daughter.”Jyn lifts her head off Cassian’s chest, because apparently a hopefully-pleasant evening snooze is no longer in the cards for her, and she spares a quick, half-hearted scowl over her shoulder, “Bite me, Princess.”





	Three People, Two Reunions, One Room In Medical

**Author's Note:**

> A follow-up to [Sleepless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12744546), in which Jyn and Cassian are still in Medical and still suffering from PTSD.
> 
> Prompt of the fic from [The Fake Redhead.com](https://thefakeredhead.com/tfrs-prompt-library/)
> 
> Number 138 “I’m pretty sure it was a ghost.” 
> 
> “I’m pretty sure it’s not.” 
> 
> “Oh really?” 
> 
> “Ghosts don’t bleed.”

Jyn’s first indication that Leia Organa is both present and accounted for on the base on Yavin IV—and that she survived this mess, _oh Force, Alderaan was gone,_ gone _, and it was all because of her father’s work—_ was the epic, echoing screaming match she had in the middle of Medical with Doctor Kalonia, to the tune of, “Yes, I am well aware that I’ve been tortured, Harter, you can look me over when I’m sure we’re not about to be blasted out of the sky by a giant karking laser moon!”

 

That being said, Jyn doesn’t get the chance to talk to her until long after some farm boy from the wasteland that is Tattooine shoots her father’s death sentence out of the sky with the help of some smuggler and a Wookie riding around in a speedy Correllian junker.

 

She does not want to know.

 

She _absolutely_ does not want to know.

 

And it’s not really a _chance_ at all anyway, talking to Leia, because Jyn has no idea what she’s supposed to say, but that is neither here nor there, because of course it has to happen sometime if she’s really going to stay with the Rebellion, and as far as she knows—see: as long as she’s stuck in physical therapy—that’s the plan right now.

 

But she _really_ doesn’t want to know what’s going on outside the relative confines of Medical, because that means dealing with way too many things that she’s not remotely prepared to deal with.

 

On the other hand, Cassian wants to know.

 

He _really_ wants to know.

 

So much so that’s he’s been both pointedly and wordlessly begging her to slice into the Rebellion’s intelligence files on the incident, since apparently, he’s been locked out of his usual security clearance while he’s on Critical Medical Leave what with his spine only just intact after he had to undergo major farking surgery.

 

Jyn quickly discovers that Cassian has a _pretty damn impressive_ security clearance, even for a Captain, but that is _definitely_ neither here nor there, because she can certainly stand to never have to talk about his literal upbringing on the front lines of this war.

 

But recovery is slow and sticky and awful for the both of them.

 

So, she is _not_ going to do it.

 

No, not even when Cassian looks at her like _that_.

 

“Take a karking break Cassian,” Jyn laughs quietly from her perch at the foot of his bed as they pick from the food Baze smuggled in from mess, because it’s only moderately better than the rations they’ve been getting over the last weeks as Medical patients.

 

He gives her that _look_ again, the one that’s different from the others he’s given her during the time they’ve known each other—but it’s still _very_ new to Jyn, a needier, wordless pestering.

 

For a spy, Cassian can have a very expressive face at times, she’s come to learn, and it still scares Jyn a bit that she has _time_ to learn this, since they started off going from world to world to world to outrunning the wave of destruction from the Death Star not once, but _twice_.

 

It’s a lot.

 

She scowls at him, because he has to know that it is, that sometimes she still feels the urge to run the fark away and steal a ship and get the hell away from the Rebellion and the mess it’s brought to her already messy life.

 

Cassian seems to know what’s running through her head—which is another thing she’s _not_ ready to touch, _not at all_ —because he backs off, turns his gaze to the tray between them and steals a bite off the plate of insta-bread with a side of insta-bread, more insta-bread and some modified protein cubes.

 

And that’s another thing keeping Jyn grounded, because all outbound flights have been since the Death Star, which means no one leaving, and more importantly, no supply runs until at least after the last fragments of the Imperial weapon stop falling through the atmosphere, and that they’re sure there’s no remaining Imperial presence in the system.

  
They have to be more careful now, because the Empire knows where they are.

 

And that’s—

 

_No Jyn. Not now._

 

Jyn’s pretty sure Doctor Kalonia is keeping them both on lockdown inside Medical because of it all, and she’s also pretty sure that somewhere, deep down, she’s a little grateful to not have to face that.

 

As it should be after the ordeal they went through, they both tire in an easy and random manor that neither Cassian nor Jyn is a fan of—it doesn’t help that Jyn’s stint in physical therapy earlier that afternoon kicked the shit out of her bony and still-bruised backside—so there’s pretty much no chance of her getting off this bed until morning, unless she absolutely has to for Imperial-related things she is _not_ going to even think about, lest risk them coming true.

 

Instead of thinking about _that_ , Jyn lets herself think about the nap that’s in their immediate future and how there’s probably one in Cassian’s too, because he’s still pretty pale under his tan skin and bordering-on-unruly facial hair. It’s nighttime, which for most would mean tucking in for the night, but she can’t remember the last time she’s actually _slept_ for a full night-cycle, and it’s definitely the same for Cassian.

 

And apparently, Jyn is just tired enough to not worry about how it might seem to everyone else if she just curls up at his side once Cassian settles on what’s somehow become _his side_ of the narrow bed that Doctor Kalonia has not-at-all pointedly commented is supposed to be _his_ and not _theirs_.

 

She’s settled and _not at all_ thinking about how the flutter in her chest _really has nothing to do_ with how Cassian doesn’t even hesitate before he wraps his arm around her waist, fingertips tucking under the hem of her shirt where it rides up when she resettles the folded pillow her bad knee is propped against, which she appropriated from her previous accommodations. She’d feel bad, but no one’s yelled at her about it yet, since the rest of the Medical staff is still too busy with the influx of injured pilots from—

 

 _Stop thinking about it Jyn. It’s over. You did your part_.

 

“I was thinking,” Cassian says as Jyn slips into a pleasant drowse to the sound of his heartbeat, and she only just resists the urge to growl something rude at him in Hutt. “Maybe after the doctors do their late rounds, you might-”

 

Jyn lifts the arm not crammed against his side and pokes him in the chest—high enough that she doesn’t hit anywhere he’s still hurting, like the bandaged blaster wound that, _damn it Jyn, cut it out_ , that anyway, he’s pretending doesn’t hurt for some stupid reason she hasn’t been able to figure out or call him on yet, “Don’t even think about it,” she cuts him off. “I’m not going to do it. You’re not going to convince me to.”

 

“Jyn,” he huffs, and she feels his breath stir her hair. “It’s just-”

 

She snorts, digs her nose into his shoulder before she resettles and closes her eyes, because she _really_ is ready for that nap, and Cassian’s usually good about going quiet so she can listen to his breathing when she does.

 

She’s never said anything about it, for _so many really obvious reasons that Chirrut really needs to stop laughing at her about_ , but he’s a spy, so that’s probably because he’s a spy that he both does and doesn’t bring her up, “You’re a workaholic, so no,” she adds, voice muffled a bit by his clothes. “And Doctor Kalonia scares me more than you do, so also no.”

 

“Well, you’ve got that right.”

 

Jyn stills.

 

The person who spoke was definitely _not_ Cassian Andor, unless he suddenly became a fem and learned how to throw his voice in the direction of the door.

 

And that would probably be slightly less embarrassing than being hit with the realization that someone snuck up on her—no wait, Cassian’s gone still a bit too, so snuck up on them _both_ , and that is the opposite of a good thing.

 

“You know,” the speaker continues in a faked conversational tone, and Jyn just barely stops from curling in on herself, because she _knows_ who’s standing just outside her eye-line. “I had heard Draven ranting about some lunatic Partisan who ran off on a suicide mission to Scarif with his best spy. Should have known it would be none other than Saw Gerrera’s daughter.”

 

Jyn lifts her head off Cassian’s chest, because apparently a hopefully-pleasant evening snooze is no longer in the cards for her, and she spares a quick, half-hearted scowl over her shoulder, “Bite me, Princess.”

 

“That’s _Doctor Princess_ to _you_ , you disgusting heathen.”

 

“Nice to know your insults still suck, _Doctor Princess_.”

 

Cassian’s grip tightens on her hip, but really, what could he _possibly_ be thinking? That she’s going to fly off the bed and attack her or something? First of all, that’s ridiculous, and secondly, there’s a good chance her leg has locked up again, and if Jyn tries to get up, there’s an embarrassingly high likelihood that she’s going to fall on her face.

 

It’s not often that she’s _happy_ with K2SO not being here—because that leads her to think about how her heart cracked a little when she forced Cassian to not look at the droid’s crumpled and blaster-scarred form as they escaped the data vault—but a moment free from finding out what he’d calculate for that very likelihood _is_ somewhat of a good thing.

 

That doesn’t mean they don’t need to figure out a way to get him a new body, but—

 

Jyn’s digressing.

 

Cassian clears his throat, thus ending the halfhearted not-really-glaring contest that she and _Doctor Princess Leia Organa_ have fallen into, and go ahead Cassian, run their fun.

 

“Princess.”

 

The look on Leia’s bruised face goes from mock outrage to a very strange, soft kindness that Jyn files away to ask Cassian about later, “How are you Cassian?” She asks, and when she shifts so she’s leaning against the doorframe of the room they were shoved into after the injured were brought into Medical in droves, Jyn sees the shadows of bruises where the collar of her dress shifts. “I heard you had to have some surgery.”

 

He inclines his head, extremely formal, but also not in the way Jyn’s seen when he speaks with Draven or Mothma, or any of the other superior officers who made their way down to the bowels of the base, “I’ll be back on my feet soon,” he says, and Jyn stifles the urge to remind him that he actually did _break his damn back_ to the point where every time he gets out of bed is _heavily supervised_ by the Medical staff. “It’s good to see you well. I heard you were in custody for a short time.”

 

Because that was _all_ Draven was willing to read him in on during the _incredibly awkward_ conversation the three had on the General’s one and only visit, one that Jyn is more than willing to pretend never happened, because she’s still _incredibly angry_ that he ordered Cassian to _assassinate_ her father, which is _not_ something she has the mental energy to care about getting over at this point.

 

Or ever.

 

Probably or ever.

 

Cassian’s damn lucky she’s too slow to get away with punching him in the face, trip to the brig or the center of the Yavin system’s star be damned.

 

“Yes, well,” Leia says, shaking Jyn out of the memory of how Draven was stiff and formal and awkward as karking hell as he asked about her health, and was just as bad when he asked about Cassian’s, which almost made her laugh, except she was too sore to do so at the time.

  
Pity.

 

But Leia’s voice also makes Jyn realize that her eyes are still locked with Cassian’s, and she keeps talking after just a flicker of hesitation, “I remembered everything you taught me.”

 

Jyn’s brows furrow, and she angles her head to the side in time to see the corners of Cassian’s mouth go tight before he dips his chin, “Good.”

 

He says it like they’re talking about specs for an upcoming recon mission or even the weather on Bespin instead of the fact that, as part of Rebellion Intelligence, Cassian both has intimate knowledge of Imperial torture methods and knows how to resist the worst of it, and apparently—at some point in their shared history—he had to teach those same lessons to _Leia kriffing Organa_ , the very same once-little-girl and still very much a teenager who freaked out the one time Jyn shoved a grimy index finger in the middle of one of her perfect hair buns.

 

Silence falls in the room, and now it’s getting awkward.

 

Jyn forces herself not to squirm, because the last thing she wants is for Cassian to say something—let alone Leia, who has always been too damn observant for her own good.

 

Fortunately, it seems that Leia wants to spend as little time as possible discussing her ability to resist the worst an IT-O droid could throw at her—as she should—and she clears her throat in a clear preamble to a subject change before turning her focus back to Jyn, “So, what’s next for you? Going back to whatever Partisan-infested hole we dug you out of?”

 

“That hole was actually prison,” she shoots back, easy as ever, because that’s better than thinking about Saw and what actually _happened_ to his base on Jedha.

 

This she can do.

 

And if she can’t joke about the hell that is her life, what else is she going to do?

 

“And thanks for reminding me,” she tacks on. “It was a lovely time. Those Imperials really know how to show you a good time in the middle of an icy work-camp hell-hole.”

 

“Leia!” Cassian admonishes, his hand tightening around her waist, and Jyn winces, because she didn’t really mean to mention _that part_ of her stay at Wobani.

 

But instead of focusing on that, Cassian seems to remember whom he’s talking to, because he coughs a couple times for reasons that have nothing to do with his bruised ribs, “I mean—Princess, all due respect, that’s a little bit-”

 

“Don’t worry,” Jyn cuts him off with a laugh as she sits up and looks at him, pats his shoulder and looks him in the eye so he knows that she’s really not offended, because she’s really not. “Even princess are allowed to be assholes sometimes.”

 

Though Leia huffs, she doesn’t say anything, and Cassian blinks at her, dark eyes questioning, but then he nods, “All right then.”

 

“I think you and I have a _lot_ of catching up to do,” Leia says, drawing Jyn away from her focus on Cassian, which in turn breaks his on her.

 

It takes Jyn a second to realize Leia’s talking to _Cassian_ , which makes more sense than Leia wanting to catch up with her, considering they only did meet a few times when they were very, very young.

  
Well, no one’s young when trying to take down a fascist empire, but—

 

_Not now, Jyn._

 

But it also brings to mind a _ton_ of questions that she’s not going to ask while Leia’s in the room, and Leia looks like she’s about to say something else when they hear, “ _Princess! I thought I told you to stay in bed!_ ”

 

Jyn stifles a laugh as she and Cassian see the grimace that flickers across Leia’s features, but it smooths away seconds before Doctor Kalonia—whose voice _really_ carries through the stone halls—appears in the open side of the doorway, her hands propped on her hips.

 

Ever the princess and accomplished senator and woman who was _in Imperial custody_ just days ago, Leia squares her shoulders and meets the young head of medical head on, with a calm, practiced guise, “I was checking on our heroes, Harter,” she says, pointed. “You know, the people who got the plains that afford us the current opportunity to celebrate the significant hit we made to the Empire’s offensive capabilities.”

 

Not remotely cowed, Doctor Kalonia glares at Leia in a manner that Jyn doesn’t think she would ever dare if their positions were reversed—at least, not if she was sober—and she says, “And yet, you should still be in bed after your part in that ordeal, lying during interrogation to Darth Vader _and_ Tarkin like you did,” her tone, as always, brooks no argument, and against her side, Jyn feels Cassian make a curious mumble at the casual mention of two of the highest-ranking members of the Emperor’s laughable excuse for a peaceful government. “Come along, Princess, we need to get you looked at before you keel over and the senior staff decides to blame _me_ for _your_ recklessness.”

 

“I’m not about to keel over,” Leia grumbles stubbornly before she spares a final look into their room. “Cassian, feel better. We’ll need you back on your feet as soon as possible, I should think.”

 

He nods once, “I’ll do my best.”

 

And Jyn makes a silent promise to herself to make sure that Cassian’s definition of _doing his best_ doesn’t include working so hard he breaks his back again.

 

Then, Leia turns her focus to Jyn, and she grins in anticipation of whatever half-hearted attempt at an insult Leia’s going to try out on her, “And you,” she says, and Jyn leans forward in anticipation. “I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do with you. Don’t break anything. Or anyone.”

 

Jyn rolls her eyes, because that really was not her best, “I think I’ll stay a while. Someone needs to teach you better insults.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Leia flicks her hand in Jyn’s general direction as she finally lets Doctor Kalonia usher her toward the treatment rooms and whatever is waiting for her there that probably befits her and her title of the now last Princess of Alderaan.

 

Which she is, all because of—

 

_Damn it Jyn, stop going there._

 

As it often has over the last few days, their room falls into silence, and Cassian’s shoulders slump out of what he attempted for ‘at attention’, and Jyn flops back down next to him once he’s settled, “So,” she says and adjusts the pillow under her knee, but it’s really a lost cause and she’s probably not going to feel comfortable until it heals. “You know Leia Organa.”

 

Cassian nods, and she feels his chin brush against the crown of her head, “For a long time.”

 

Curiosity spikes, as it always does when he mentions his past—though she has resolved to _not_ ask what he could have gotten up to fighting against the Empire when he was _six_ , because she knows she can’t stomach knowing what he had to do to survive—and Jyn glances back to where Leia was standing before she tilts her head up at him, “Can you tell me?”

 

For the Rebellion’s top spy, Cassian nods quicker than she thinks he ought to—and honestly like that is a heady, terrifying thing that she’s not sure she’s ready to face, even tangled up next to him like she is.

 

“It was my very first undercover mission for the Rebellion,” his voice sounds very far away, and she doesn’t know if he’s going to keep talking until he does. “I was assigned to accompany a socialite from Naboo to Alderaan.”

 

At the way he says _socialite_ , Jyn’s brows fly to her hairline, but before she can ask, Cassian husks out a laugh and shakes his head, “It’s _not_ what you think,” he squeezes her side, in the one spot that doesn’t hurt, and she squirms at the way his fingers dig into her ribs. “She’s known to the Emperor through her service as bodyguard to one of Naboo’s former queens, so we went undercover as mother and son. The hope was that the Imperials would not think to connect the dots, with me being older than a child her real identity ought to have. I was maybe twelve, I think? Twelve or thirteen.”

 

“How did it go? Did it go?” She asks when he goes pensive again, because his silence could mean a lot of things.

 

But it could also just mean he’s tired.

 

“Oh yes,” Cassian seems to wake up from whatever he’s thinking about, shifts and resettles them so she’s lying higher up on his shoulder. “Yes, it did go. Honestly, it was one of the easiest missions I’ve ever executed. We stayed on Alderaan for a few weeks, which is when I met Leia for the first time. She was serving as one of her mother’s maids, while also spying on the court on behalf of her father. I taught her a few things Bail probably would have preferred I didn’t, and then I accompanied our agent back home. She and her partners are still the Rebellion’s greatest sources of intel within the Naboo royal court. It’s quite the coup.”

 

“Coup,” Jyn snorts, because there’s no way in a hell a bunch of wealthy, middle-aged ladies who have probably never had to work a day in their lives could be considered a _coup_ for anything in this stupid war. “Sure it is.”

 

Cassian just shrugs, which knocks her off his shoulder a bit, and Jyn tucks back next to him instead of asking about the parts of the story that are probably still very classified, even all these years later. She sighs when he rubs his hand up and down her back under her scrubs, his calloused fingers tripping over the scars engraved in her skin from a particularly unpleasant stay in an Imperial prison some years between being abandoned by Saw and the mistake that landed her in Wobani.

 

They sit for a while, still exhausted as they were when they first stumbled back to Yavin IV, when Cassian was bruised and bleeding and couldn’t move anything below his hips and Jyn’s knee wouldn’t stop moving, even when the rest of her was still.

 

Eventually, Cassian grunts a wordless question, and Jyn hums an equally wordless reply, because without lifting her head and looking at him, she really can’t figure out what he’s trying to ask.

 

At least until Cassian tries to interrogate her with actual words, “What about when you met her?”

  
“You mean it’s not in my file?” She asks, but there’s no heat to it.

 

“I wouldn’t have asked if it was,” he answers, just as even as she is, and it’s not like Jyn doesn’t already know that he’s fully aware of the ins and outs of everything the Rebellion managed to gather about her past.

 

She tilts her head, presses her nose into his shoulder before she resettles, stares off into the distance and watches his chest rise and fall out of the corner of her eye, “I know,” she says, because it’s important for her to say that out loud. “It was years ago, I was so young and untrained, to Saw’s standards at least, so he didn’t want me on my own for too long. He told me it would be a chance to learn something, pick up a thing or two of tradecraft, so he brought me to the base you were using for a meeting with Leia’s father.”

 

Jyn flinches, because it brings to mind the memory of the last time she _saw_ Leia’s father, standing in the shadows of her interrogation the day she met Cassian, and he tightens his arm around her waist, probably remembering the same thing, “The Rebellion was trying to ease tensions with the Partisans, and Saw was, well, not very sympathetic to their views, so it was mostly a lot of arguing and shouting,” she shrugs at the understatement of the century, remembers the way Saw used to be, before he was so far gone that he actually accused _her_ of using their relationship to get close enough to kill him on the Rebellion’s behalf. “I’m not sure how much I really picked up from that meeting, but I got bored and Leia got curious, so we snuck off, ended up knee deep in the droid bay while I taught her curses in Mando’.”

 

“Ah, so _that’s_ where she picked that up.”

 

“I’d feel bad about it, but the look on Bail’s face when he found us was,” she breaks off before she can laugh, because—right.

 

Bail Organa is dead because of something her father built.

 

Jyn squeezes her eyes shut when her nose starts to tingle, and she is _not_ going to cry about this. Cassian’s arm rises so he can cup her shoulder and pull her impossibly closer to him, “None of this was your fault, Jyn,” he says, mouth soft against her hairline. “You couldn’t have known. You weren’t _supposed_ to know.”

 

“I know that,” she rasps, feels her cheeks go hot because of the way the words stick in her throat. “I _do_ , but the Rebellion needed people like Bail Organa, like Raddus, like Merrick, and now-”

 

“There is no way Leia won’t take Bail’s place, and no way she’s won’t succeed,” Cassian says, sure as ever. “People will step up to fill the gaps, and we’ll do everything in our power to support her.”

 

Jyn swallows hard at the lump that’s formed in her throat, and she is _not going to cry over this_ , “There’s no way the Council will let Rogue One fly again.”

 

 _I’m not in the business of rewarding gross insubordination_ , Draven warned days ago, before he ran away from one of the most awkward conversations he’s probably ever had to endure, and Jyn can’t but feel like it’s an omen.

 

“We’ll find a way,” Cassian’s thumb runs up and down her shoulder, and she’s not sure if he knows he’s doing it. “We’ll take every chance we get.”

 

Squeezing her eyes shut and thinking back to the words she used before they landed on Scarif—before Bohdi lost a hand and Baze and Chirrut nearly lost their lives and K2SO _did_ , as did Melshi and Tonc and Pao and all the others—Jyn swallows hard and taps her hand to his chest, just over the bandages covering his healing blaster wound, “Until all the chances are spent. I remember.”

 

“Good.”

 

A yawn escapes, and Jyn buries it in her palm while Cassian tangles his fingers through her hair, which rests in unbound tangles over her shoulders because she still can’t really lift her arms high enough to deal with it.

 

Finally, he hums another wordless question, maybe a test to see if she’s still awake in the long minutes that pass after the lights in Medical dim by half for the late-shift.

 

She hums back, “Use your words.”

 

Cassian snorts, and mutters a question in a language she’s never heard before, can only guess it’s the native tongue of his home world.

 

“Words that I can understand,” she mutters around a laugh.

 

He’s quiet for a minute before he asks, “Did you mean what you said to Leia?”

 

“That she needs better insults? Of course.”

  
Though she can’t see it, she knows he rolls his eyes, “No, the other part.”

 

“Yes, I am planning on staying,” she chooses her next words carefully. “For as long as you want me to stay.”

 

He nudges her so she’s more on her side and less on her stomach so he can look at her, their eyes meeting and foreheads touching and Jyn knows better than to look away, even though part of her kind of wants to. Finally, Cassian nods in understanding, and she knows he knows she means _him_ , not _the Rebellion_.

 

“Okay,” he says, lets her settle back against him, his hand returning to the tangles in her hair. “You think you’re going to get much sleep tonight?”

 

Jyn tamps down on the urge to snort, “No.”

 

“Yeah. Me neither.”

 

Though, she might stand corrected on getting sleep if Cassian keeps doing what he’s doing to her hair, because it’s soothing and repetitive, and as she focuses on the repeated motions, she feels herself slipping into something that might be rest.

 

“Jyn?”

 

Or not.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Now would be a really good time, if you were up to sneaking into Doctor Kalonia’s-“

 

“ _Cassian Andor_.”

 

His hand stills in her hair, “Yes?”

 

“Go the fark to sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Concerning Cassian's undercover mission to Alderaan with the "socialite from Naboo", I told myself I wasn't going to go there, but then I did. Of course I did. Considering the inconsistencies between the way Padme Amidala died at ROTS and Leia's memory of her mother from the original trilogy, I like to think that this happened when Leia was too young to know that the visitor wasn't Padme, but Sabe, who obviously looks just like her mother.
> 
> And I just love the thought of the remaining handmaidens smuggling intel from Naboo to the Rebellion. Padme and her handmaidens deserved better, and that's what fic is for.
> 
> Whether or not we see more of the handmaidens in the future of this series remains to be seen, but anything is possible.
> 
> More to come in this universe, because we do need to actually see the other members of Rogue One, seeing as they're all alive and all too.
> 
> Prompt of the fic from [The Fake Redhead.com](https://thefakeredhead.com/tfrs-prompt-library/)
> 
> Number 138 “I’m pretty sure it was a ghost.” 
> 
> “I’m pretty sure it’s not.” 
> 
> “Oh really?” 
> 
> “Ghosts don’t bleed.”


End file.
